Eva Scotta
by FountainPenguin
Summary: Eva has been sentenced to fly out to Scotland and interview Hamish McTavish on the alleged "Duncan sightings" he's been sending the producers. By majority rule, Trent was drafted by the others to come along for the uncomfortable ride... (Written October 2013)


They broke into cheers and clapping as Sadie led me out to the poolside. "Eva, glad you could finally make it!" "Sleep well?" "Good to see you!"

I slit my eyes and yanked my elbow from Sadie's grasp. "Shut up! Or do I have to tear off your lips and stuff them down your little throats?"

Trent and Geoff exchanged startled glances, and Sadie gave me a disapproving look. "Eva-"

"What?" I stomped past their little cluster, shoving Katie's shoulder with my own as I did so. "I could do it too- Don't think I can't! I don't care about physical possibility trash! Serve 'em right for mocking me. Yeesh." I snatched up a long fork at the buffet table, stabbed a chunk of meat with it, and slapped it onto a paper plate. This was then followed by several cubes of pineapple and pieces of scrambled eggs. Once I was finished I took the plate in both hands and spun around.

"What?" I snapped again.

Sadie's disapproving look had intensified. She now stood there, arms crossed and brows drawn together, scowling furiously. Katie looked only slightly less miffed, rubbing one hand against her shoulder where I'd bumped her, which was ridiculous since I hadn't even bumped her that hard. Geoff kept one eyebrow raised, half a smirk on his face. I wanted to punch it, but we were separated by five meters of empty space and stupid pretty-boy Justin, who had Sadie's expression down to a tee. Trent half-hid behind him, clutching his (new) guitar. Little Beth looked utterly terrified, her buggy eyes even buggier than usual behind her glasses. That made me feel guilty and really pretty stupid, and I gave a snort and looked away.

And that was all of us. Just the six of them. And me.

"Okay, _no_." Sadie marched towards me, waving one finger. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no!" On that last 'no' she grabbed hold of my shoulders with her hands. I know what people say about her behind her back (including, but not limited to, things that I've said about her), but yeesh- That girl's guts are made from the same stuff that bears and alligators run on.

"Excuse me?" I asked, arching a threatening brow. I hoped it was threatening, at least. Though whether it was actually threatening or not was up to Sadie, I guess.

She took one of her hands and pointed over my shoulder. "Go."

I didn't move. Sadie jabbed again.

"I brought you out here because you said you were, like, done sulking in your room and that you could behave yourself, but if you aren't mature enough to handle being around us yet, then just _go_."

Geoff and Trent ran forward, locked hold of Sadie's arms, and pulled her away before I had the chance to punch her for the 'aren't mature enough' comment. Which I might've if I hadn't been so stunned at her nerve. I hope I wouldn't have. I mean, I like Sadie, I guess… Sometimes. On rare occasions. When I have to.

My fists clenched and unclenched briefly, and I turned back to my food with a grunt of "Whatever." It wasn't the most impressive retort, but then again I was out of practice. Noah would have been able to come up with something stupidly amazingly clever. But it had been ages since he and I last sat down and really spoke. I always got my best ideas when he was around (mostly through copying off what I heard him say), but now it was back to grunts and eye rolling.

The others avoided me the rest of the day like I had rabies or something. I think little Beth about died when she found out I would be sitting directly in front of her while we watched the freshly-recorded rough-copy of the first episode on the Jumbotron at Ground Zero.

We're required to attend these rough-copy sessions of what's been going on, but I would've shown up anyway just to look for them. It's funny… I thought seeing Noah and Izzy in action would cheer me up. Instead it just made me miss them more.

"Idiot," was the only word I heard Trent say. It was right at the end, just after Duncan had quit the game.

"Yeah." I rolled my eyes. "Yeesh, here we are all wishing we could be in his place, and he just goes and throws it all away with his nose turned up."

Beth leaned forward so she could make eye-contact with me. "You _want_ to be out there? Risking life and limb with Chris putting you through all sorts of crazy tortures?"

"Easy for you to say." I slammed my palms down on the bench beside me and pushed myself up to my feet. "You made it to the final two."

Beth bristled like I'd just called her a diseased beaver (which, by the way, I actually did once). She said something to me that was probably mildly insulting- I wasn't actually listening. I just went back to sawing at my fingernails with my nailfile as I stomped from the stage.

The day didn't get much better after that. I managed to bend three different forks in half, shove Katie in the pool, shatter the window of Beth's hotel room with a volleyball, smash the handles of two bathroom sinks, crush Geoff's fingers with the back door, leave scratches across Trent's new guitar, smack Sadie in the back with an umbrella handle, and break a glass bottle of barbecue sauce over Justin's head, all before nightfall (One of those was actually intentional- I'll leave it up to you to decide which one).

Suffice to say, I think everyone hated me by the time I locked myself in my room that night.

"Yeesh, what a day." I threw myself backwards wrong-way across my bed. Trent was playing his guitar out by the poolside for the others, and after a few moments of feeling sorry for myself in silence I reached out to nudge the window open with my shoe. It sounded like it was some sort of love song, but I couldn't place the name. Not that I would know anything about love songs, of course- Not my cup of tea or whatever. I swear, Nat would've heard the first two notes and known exactly what it was.

 _Though on second thought_ , I reflected as Sadie and Katie broke into an argument over which one of them Trent was playing the song for, _He prob'ly wrote it himself._

I could hear Justin chanting "Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!" as Geoff and Beth tried to break them up. I put only one of the headphones to my MP3 in my ear, resolving to go out there and help if they didn't stop within two minutes. I guess I'll never know for sure exactly how or when the fight ended, because I fell asleep listening to the clatter of cymbals and thumping of drums.

Little Beth was the only one up by the time I dragged myself out to the pool in the morning. She gave me a friendly but wary hello, which I returned with a friendly grunt. It's funny; Noah's always grumpy in the morning unless he can read himself awake, and Izzy'll be ready for action at the drop of a hat. Me? Well, contrary to popular belief I actually consider myself a morning person. Iz likes to say that I seem to think the day's gonna be a good one until something proves me otherwise. Guess I can't argue with her there.

"Bacon and eggs for breakfast," I said, shaking salt and pepper over my plate. "Again."

"I can sneak into the kitchen and make waffles if you like," Beth offered.

"Nah. I prefer my protein." _And the interns'll kill ya if they catch you cooking anything in there again after yesterday's meatloaf fiasco._ I took another two pieces of bacon from the buffet table and held them up in my fist for her to see. "Chicken said you grew up alongside a pig or something. Does it bother you that I'm eating all this in front of you?"

"You're good."

Reading body language is more of Noah's thing, and Beth sounded honest enough, but it did make me wonder if she would've responded differently had I been anyone else. Say, Katie, for example.

"Awesome, thanks." I stuffed a piece of bacon and reached behind me, searching for a fork. "At least they've started actually _cooking_ the meat they put out here."

"Hm?"

"Oh, that's right- You were a no-show last season." Finally finding a fork, I scooped up a bite of my eggs. "Well, Homeschool challenged Trent and Feathers to this dumb breakfast-eating contest, and Trent ended up getting sick. He's such a freakin' magnet when it comes to pain, he could find a way to injure himself with a stick of butter. And I swear, Homeschool's immune to food poisoning."

"Bit of a gift of his, isn't it?"

The back doors flew outward with a great flourish, and we were greeted by none other than this season's Aftermath co-host, Blaineley Stacey Andrews O'Halloran. And yes, I know her full name, because she insists on flaunting it about in the same way pretty-boy Justin flaunts his hair. She's gonna write a song about it someday, I just know it. Flanking Blaineley were Geoff, who was pulling faces at her behind her back, and Katie, who was rummaging through what I think was Blaineley's make-up bag and trying to pretend that she wasn't.

Blaineley stopped in front of me and crossed her arms. "Pack yourself an overnight bag, honey. You're going to Scotland."

"… Excuse me?" I poked a finger inside one ear. "Did you just-"

"Yes, yes, and yes." Blaineley glanced down at her fingernails, used the tip of one to rub a smear of paint from another knuckle, then looked up at me again. "We've received reports of Duncan sightings in Loch Ness."

Now I raised my brows, genuinely wondering if something was wrong with my hearing today. "Duncan sightings?"

Blaineley raised her brows back at me. "You didn't- ? No, of course you didn't. You stomped off the set early, love-bug." She looked at the sky and shook her head. Then, "Chris shoved him out of the plane somewhere between Egypt and Japan. It seems he managed to lose the chopper, and people all over have been sending in photos and e-mails claiming to have seen him."

Beth's eyes bulged from their sockets. "Poor Duncan!"

Noah may be the brains to my brawn, but even _I_ am not _that_ dumb. Slitting my eyes at Blaineley I said, "That's funny, 'cuz last time I checked I was pretty sure that Scotland wasn't anywhere near Egypt _or_ Japan."

Geoff and Katie exchanged nervous glances. I saw them. It took me maybe half a second to figure out what the deal was.

"What, are you freakin' kidding me?" I slapped one palm to my forehead, grabbing strands of black hair with my fingers, then gave a light swear and flung my fork across the plaza. It landed in the pool with a soft _plunk_. Then, standing, I jabbed a finger at Geoff. "Is this because I slammed your hand in the door yesterday?"

"No, of course not," he spluttered, raising said hand defensively to chest-height.

I turned my glare on Katie. She shrunk away, pretending to be too engrossed with Blaineley's make-up to meet my gaze.

"Ter - freaking - rific." I stood there for a few seconds, clenching and unclenching my fists, then spun back around to face the pool chair I had been sitting in. In less than one minute it had been flipped over, the remains of my breakfast had been scattered, glasses at the smoothie bar had been smashed, and the cloth that had formerly been covering the buffet table was in tatters. I stood there among the mess, leaning against the table and breathing hard through my teeth. It was a moment before Blaineley casually sidled up to me.

"Have a pleasant temper-tantrum, sweetie?"

I ignored her. Instead I focused my blurry stare on Geoff, who had taken shelter behind a small bush. "I'm not good enough, is that it?" I demanded, snarling it even. "I don't deserve to stay here? You all hate me so much that you'd volunteer to send me away at the first opportunity?"

He confirmed my suspicions by saying "Uh", and I pounded my fists against the table.

"I'm just as much a contestant as the rest of you! I said sorry for smashing your freaking hand, okay? I can't… I can't help my temper!" I shoved the entire table over, spilling food across the teal tiles that decorated the plaza. "Why? _Why_ would you not ask my permission first? Who _does_ that?"

Katie peeked out from beneath one overturned pool chair. "Eva, it's not that we don't like you. It's just that we're terrified of you."

"Oh, _brilliant_. That makes me feel superb." I curled my fingernails against my palms, shoulders trembling. "You can't just volunteer me like that. You can't just- Why would-?" I furrowed my brows and stared down at my shoes. For the time it would have taken to lift my dumbbells once each, I think I almost relaxed. "Why would you even _do_ that? Send someone off somewhere without their permission…"

By this point I think I can safely say that people know better than to mess with me when I'm in one of my moods. Maybe Blaineley hadn't gotten the memo. She held up her fingers, using the other hand to count off as she spoke. "Hmm, let's see. You threaten and/or injure your fellow ex-contestants on a daily basis, you destroy the one safehaven Chris has seen fit to give them, you shout at them if they so much as cast you a sideways glance, you constantly disrupt them with your-"

As she had been speaking, Geoff managed to scramble up and rush to my side. He had just enough time to grab hold of me as I tried lunging for Blaineley.

"You wanna repeat that?" I snarled, dragging Geoff forward as I took a step towards her. He dragged me back. "Because I think I just heard you say something I should _not_ have heard you say."

Blaineley glanced at her phone, then nodded as if something satisfied her. "Your plane tickets," she said, somehow producing them from behind her back. "You'd better get a move on or you'll miss your flight."

"I'm not going," I insisted, still bound by Geoff's arms.

"Not even for a chance at re-entering the competition?"

That stopped me, and for a few seconds I was speechless. "What?"

"Episode nineteen, we're sending one of you losers back out into the field. Of course, we could always cut your chance of-"

"Fine, I'll… I'll do it." I shrugged Geoff's arms away, though he kept his hands hovering near my shoulders in case he saw the need to grab me again, and fast. "But this is stupid. We both know dumb Mohawk isn't even in Scotland, and you're just sending me on a wild goose chase to get me out of your dumb hair."

"You're right, Eva," Blaineley said, presenting me with the tickets. "We do both know that. I applaud your intelligence."

I raised one fist, causing Geoff to gently push it down. Trying to distract myself I said, "Why _two_ tickets?"

"Buddy system. Legals say you rejects aren't allowed anywhere in public on your own, but it appears that Duncan didn't get the memo."

I looked at the tickets for several long seconds. Then I looked up again. "Wait, so… _Who_ 's coming with me?"

It was at that exact moment that the main doors opened, and Trent stopped short when he saw the five of us looking at him, Geoff and Katie and Beth pointing fingers his way, and the plaza trashed all around us. Regarding us warily he said, "Did something just happen that I should know about?"

…

"You know they're not going to let you take that on the plane."

I looked up from my nailfile. "What? Why not?"

"Well…" Trent made his hands balance each other out like a slow teeter-totter. "It could be dangerous."

I let those words sink in as I sank into the seats of the Lame-O-Sine. "They're not gonna let a _nailfile_ on the plane, but they're gonna let _me_ on the plane."

Trent continued to regard me with that wary, puzzled expression he was so fond of, not seeming to understand the irony one bit. Noah would've found it funny.

"Aw, forget this," I muttered, and turned back to my fingers with a roll of my eyes. We sat in silence for several long minutes as Kevin directed the Lame-O-Sine through traffic, Trent rubbing his thumb over the blender charm on his necklace and me filing my nails into sharp points. I had been at it for days now, and they looked freakin' awesome. Right before I left I'd used them to shred the upholstery and curtains in Blaineley's favorite make-up room, but by the time she screamed Kevin was just peeling out of the parking lot, and we were on our way.

"So…" Trent uncrossed his legs, then crossed them again.

"Yeah?"

"Nothing."

"If you have nothing to tell me, why did you imply you had something to say?"

Trent rubbed the back of his neck, his head tilted downwards, but he looked up his eyebrows at me. Apparently I'd offended him; he said nothing.

"It was a legitimate question," I said defensively.

For another moment we drove in silence. At last Trent said, "I've heard Scotland is nice this time of year."

"Great. Can't wait."

I probably could've sliced through the tension in the air with my clawed fingernails. Not half as pointy and sharp as Heather's, and nowhere near as cool considering how she could flick them, but they weren't bad for two days' work. The thought made one side of my mouth quirk up a bit into a slight smile.

"Remind me to clip off Heather's nails while she's sleeping when she actually bothers to show up here, all right?"

Trent said, "Uh, sure. Cool."

"Thanks." I leaned back against my seat, absentmindedly using my hands to brace myself against the cushion on either side of me. My left hand landed on Trent's right, and he jerked away like I'd scalded him.

"Really, Saxophone?" I asked, calling him by my favorite of the many nicknames he'd earned. "Even _you're_ scared that I'll tear off your arms?"

Trent spent a few seconds examining his fingernails. "Uh… Which response means you won't kill me before this trip is over?"

I let myself smile a little more then. "That'll work." Trent's no Noah, and definitely no Izzy, but considering who else I've been hanging around with for the past two or so days, I guess I can consider him my best friend. Temporary best friend. Placeholder best friend.

"Cool." Trent smiled back. It was a strained smile, and his eyes seemed to be saying _You're the last person I would ever want to be stuck on a plane with for seven hours plus security and taxies and everything else._

"I know you got volunteered for this by Cowboy, Beth, and Pigtails, but. . .Just so you know, if I had to choose who to be stuck with on a plane for seven hours plus security and taxies and everything else with, I'd prob'ly have picked you anyway."

I think Trent's smile became a little more genuine. "Even over Izzy and Noah?"

"Over Iz? For a plane ride? Definitely. Over Fruitcake…" I put my hands together and tapped my fingertips a few times against my lips. "Well, prob'ly not. Maybe. It'd depend."

"Well… Thanks. That really means a lot to me."

I shifted my gaze back to him, raising one brow. "Does it?"

"Well," He was still smiling, shrugging now and briefly shutting his eyes. "I'm just honored that you don't want to snap off my limbs. You… _don't_ want to snap off my limbs, do you?"

"Nah. They wouldn't fit in my duffel or match the rest of my collection back home."

I saw the terror flicker across his face.

"That. That was a joke, Accordion." Trying to change the subject I held out one fist and said, "So, no hard feelings about me breaking your old guitar last week? In my defense, I had a blindfold on and Cowboy _did_ tell me it was a piñata."

"No hard feelings," Trent said, gently bumping my fist back with his own.

"You're lying. I can smell it mixed in there with your sweat and fear."

"Nah, it's cool. I'd been meaning to upgrade to a newer model anyway. Now there's a sweet nylon-stringed beauty waiting for me when we get back."

I winced, remembering the events of yesterday. "Yeah, about that… Sorry. It was an accident- I have witnesses."

Trent looked at me for several long seconds. I saw his eyes dilate. "What did you-?"

"Wait, you didn't even…? The scratches?" I held out my fingernails, which Trent regarded warily. Then he looked away out the window.

"I was wondering where those came from."

"They make it… look cool?"

"Yes. It is very cool."

I sighed softly as I stared at the back of Trent's head. "Sorry, Harmonica. Sometimes when I lose my temper I just do really dumb things. It's gotten… It's gotten worse since Fruitcake and Iz shipped out. But I'll try not to spaz out on you this trip."

"That'd be nice," he said without much emotion, and we spent a minute or two in silence before Kevin pulled the shuddering Lame-O-Sine over to the curb and announced rather cheerfully that we'd arrived at the airport. I slung my duffel bag over my shoulder and hopped out.

 _Let's get this over with, then._

I pursed my lips when Trent jumped out after me. "You're bringing _that_ on the plane?"

He shrugged and hiked the backpack a little higher on his shoulders. "It's the only thing I brought that could hold my clothes."

"Yeesh, you could crush Former-Brace-Face with that. Myself, I prefer to travel light."

He twitched both eyebrows. "Didn't you stuff a dumbbell in that duffel?"

"Yeah, just one. Like I said, I travel light." I turned to face the automatic doors that would emit us into the airport, then turned back again. "Wait," I called, hurrying to the passenger window as Kevin began to move the Lame-O-Sine out. As he rolled down the window I tossed him my nailfile and said, "Can you hold onto that for me? Saxophone here says they won't let it on the plane."

"Would her majesty also like me to-?"

"Awesome." I gave Kevin a thumbs-up, then spun around and ran to catch up with Trent, who was waiting for me.

 _Fwoosh,_ went the gentle doors as we approached them, and I reached out to punch the place they'd retracted into.

"When I was little my mom used to say doors like these were the mouth of a great dragon who wanted to eat us," I explained to Trent as I went to slug the next set.

"Yeah?"

I waited him to make some sarcastic comment about how old habits die hard or how it's no wonder the dragon never ate me because any meat on me would probably be too tough or tender or sweaty or stringy or _something_. Heck, he could've called me hairy and I'd've been okay with it. But that little 'Yeah?' was all he said.

"You ever ridden a plane before?" I asked him.

"A few times to visit my grandparents."

"Out of the country?"

"Nah, they just live over near the Great Lakes."

"No way- Me too! So you've never left Canada?"

"Not on a plane," Trent admitted as we climbed a set of stairs. "You?"

"Just once. We moved here from Poland when I was seven; I don't remember much of it. Do planes bounce up and down a lot?"

"Nah. Well, sometimes, like if they hit a patch of turbulence."

"Or if Izzy's on board," I said, entertaining the idea of her performing handstands up and down the isles or scrambling over chairs and people as she chased after this dust clot or that wisp of cotton.

"Probably," Trent agreed, and that made me smile. The mood was lighter between us now as we wove our way from one end of the airport to the other. Yeesh, there sure were a lot of lines to stand in. I checked my ticket more than once, I guess to reassure myself that our departure time hadn't suddenly decided to change on us.

"Dude." Trent shook his head as we left the man at the out-of-country desk behind. "Am I ever glad Chris wanted all of us to make sure our passports were up to date before we came out here."

"Episode nineteen," I said, tossing my duffel bag into a bucket. This was then joined by my shoes and jacket and pushed along a conveyer belt towards what I guessed was an x-ray of some kind. "Blaineley said they're plannin' a' send one of us in halfway through the season."

"Seriously?" Trent couldn't seem to decide if he was horrified or excited by the news.

"Seriously."

He shook his head and unbuckled his belt. As he tucked it and his shoes into another bucket he said, "I've always hated going through the metal detectors. When I was a kid I was terrified that it'd beep on me and those big security guards would drag me away from my mom and dad."

"Metal detectors, huh?" I grinned and rapped one fist against the side of my head. "They might not let me through, then. Got a skull made of iron, after all."

Trent didn't laugh. Noah would've laughed.

I passed through the metal detector, half-expecting it to shout at me. But I made it to the other side, reached out for my things as they slid through the x-ray, and gave Trent a bit of a smirk.

"Looks like I'm clean. Your turn."

He smiled and crossed to join me. "Yeah, I guess it's pretty silly for me to still be afrai-"

 _Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt!_

Trent froze where he was, his green eyes expanding so much that I could only see slight rings of white around the edges.

"Trent?"

A man pressed into a white uniform lay a hand on Trent's shoulder. "Excuse me-"

Trent passed out on the floor, lying there in a crumpled heap while above him the metal detector continued to blare.

"Whoa." I rushed back to his side, ignoring the security guard as he tried to order me away. Trent came awake before I'd even finished hauling him to his feet. "You okay there, Saxophone?"

He blinked rapidly, I guess taking in all the beeping noises. He gave a slight groan and mumbled, "Whatever it is, I didn't do it." He slumped a bit against my shoulder, and as he did I saw something glint in the light. The silver blender charm.

"There," I told the security guard, pointing at the chain around Trent's neck. "Think that's what set it off?"

He felt it in his hand. "That'd do it," he agreed, but made Trent take it off and pass through the metal detector again just in case.

"You okay?" I asked him again more quietly as he finished reclasping the necklace and reached for his shoes.

"Aw man, dude." Trent cupped a palm around his forehead. "I think for a second there I thought I was gonna die."

"He wouldn't have killed you," I reassured him, patting his shoulder.

"Huh. The six-year-old inside me begs to differ."

"Trust me: You're safe as long as I'm around."

Trent raised one eyebrow.

"Safe from things other than me," I amended as he swung his heavy backpack onto his shoulders. "I can't promise that I won't hurt you, but everyone else has to get through me first."

"I guess I can be reassured by that."

I opened my mouth to say something when I caught sight of the clock on the wall behind him. "Aw, snap- they're boarding! We're gonna have to run for it!" I took off, my duffel thumping against my hip.

"Eva, slow down!" wailed Trent from behind. I skidded to a halt and waited impatiently as he caught up, then grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him along after me. I will say one thing: If that'd been Noah running with me, we never would have made it. As it was we just reached the gate to tag onto the end of the line, and Trent hadn't even caught his breath by the time we handed in our tickets.

"The window seat's mine," I told him as we walked more calmly down the boarding aisle towards the plane. "That cool with you?"

His face had flushed red, and he flapped his shirt collar with one hand and wiped his brow with the other.

"Yeah, sure. Sounds cool. Anything you want, Eva. Just please don't kill me."

Yeesh. What a pushover.

…

Natalie had a blanket. I don't know why- She just did. She wore it around her shoulders like a cloak, her black hair - mostly the same color as mine - in the usual curls around her face, marred by that one weird pink streak she'd decided to add just a month before she left.

I remember her walking towards me, a smile on her face. I don't remember what she said. I don't remember if she even said anything. I think I called her name, but I don't remember if she answered.

I do remember one thing, though. There was snow- a lot of it, and I shivered in the wind. Natalie took the blanket from her shoulders and wrapped it around my own.

"Here, Lyn," I remember her saying. "You need this more than I do."

"Wait," I called after her as she turned away. "You don't have to go!"

She kept walking, and I tried to step after her, but the snow was thick and heavy, and the wind was blowing frost into my eyes and pushing me back.

"Nat! Come back! Hey! I'm talking to you! Don't just… You can't just go! Wait! I want to talk to you!"

Natalie became a dark blur in the snowstorm. I guess she kept walking until she disappeared. I don't know. But I never stopped watching the blur, especially when it seemed to be coming back towards me. It split into two blurs, then four.

"Natalie?" I croaked out, trying to shield my eyes against the snow.

The blurs came towards me until they were no longer blurs. My dad was there. He had a blanket, and my mom was right behind him. She had a blanket too.

"Here, Eves." My dad put his blanket around my shoulders. "You need this more than I do."

I heard the same thing from my mother: "Here, Evelyn. You need this more than I do."

I remember pleading with them. "Don't go," I said, reaching out, but my hand passed right through their arms like they were made of mist. "You don't have to go."

They walked past me. Not back the way they had come, and not even together. My dad moved past my left shoulder and my mom moved past my right. Split, like they had the month after I was born. I spun around to watch them go as they traveled at angles in nearly-opposite directions. Going, going, and individually gone into the storm as the snow swallowed them up.

I remember that someone behind me cleared their throat and that I turned to see another pair of familiar faces. Two smaller forms than my parents or sister, both of them wrapped in tight blankets, which they took off when I looked at them.

"Here, Eva." Izzy held the blanket out to me, grinning even when I shook my head and backed away. "You need this more than I do."

"Are you going to leave too?" I remember asking. She didn't answer, just held out the blanket and grinned that maniacal grin.

"Here, Iron Woman." Unlike my parents, I could feel Noah's hand as he reached to wrap the blanket around my shoulders. He was freezing. And I don't mean cold freezing- He was literally turning into ice as he spoke, the blue-white color starting at his fingers and running up the length of his arm. "You need this more than I do."

"No I don't," I insisted, and shoved him away with my elbow. That was my mistake, because another coating of frost washed over him where we'd touched, flowing from his chest over the rest of his body. Noah stared down at himself in horror as he stiffened up, then looked back up at me. He reached out to me, whether out of anger or fear I don't know. But he froze there, staring at me through ice-glassed eyes.

"Noah?" I whispered, touching him again. "Fruitcake? Fruitcake, can you hear me?"

No answer. I remember that I was horrified at what I had somehow done to him, and I grabbed his frozen body and shook him hard. Out of panic I spun towards Izzy, grabbing her by the wrists. "What's wrong with him? How can I fix him?"

I remember that she was cold too, and that she froze over in less than three heartbeats, leaving me clutching her smooth, icy hands. My fingers came away wet with condensation, and I stepped back, nearly tripping on the blankets around my shoulders.

"Iz? Iz, no. No! Anyone but you, Iz!"

I remember that she'd been frozen with a look of terror on her face. I remember drinking it in.

"Iz? I-Izzy? Not funny, Giselda!"

I remember looking back and forth between my two frozen friends. I remember being lost and injured and hungry all at the same time. I remember that I grabbed Izzy again and tried to thaw her out by breathing on her frozen skin. I rubbed her arm until it cracked off, shattering into splinters that vanished among the snow at my feet.

I remember that I was furious. Furious at myself for being so stupid, for grabbing her even after I saw what had happened to Noah. Furious for standing there so helplessly. Furious at losing them. Furious with everything.

I remember that I smashed the two statues in my rage - every bit - and turned away, prepared to run into the storm. But I happened to glance back, and there was blood all over the snow where I'd destroyed them. So much blood everywhere, because I had killed them with my hands.

That was when I woke up, warm sweat sticking to my whole body. I couldn't move my arms, and it took me a few seconds to figure out why. I was bundled in a thin red blanket, and the fabric had somehow twisted around me as I slept.

"What?" I mumbled to myself, blinking blearily down. "Where…?"

Of course. The airplane.

I untangled my left arm, then my right. A slight weight was pressed down against my shoulder, and I turned my head slightly to see Trent. He shifted when I moved and looked at me through half-lidded eyes.

"Sleep well?" he asked, the question turning into a yawn as he sat up.

"Not really." I groaned as my sore joints cracked and my ears popped against the altitude. "Do you know how long I was out?"

Trent scratched the back of his head. "Maybe forty-five minutes, give or take. I'm not sure."

Rubbing my eyes, I yawned back at him. "How much longer? Do you know that?"

"Should be another three and a half hours, at bare minimum. Possibly four."

I pressed my forehead to the window on my left, trying to make out any signs of civilization, but everything was black with night, and I saw no glowing city lights at all. We were over the Atlantic, maybe.

Trent said softly, "You really miss them, don't you?"

Still trying to blink sticky sleep from my eyes, I glanced at him over my shoulder. "What are you talking about?"

"Izzy. Noah."

Another few blinks. Trent squirmed, rubbing his blender necklace between forefinger and thumb.

"Uh, well… you kinda talked a little in your sleep. Mostly gibberish, but I did catch their names. And you were twitching. Like, a lot."

I sighed through my teeth. "Bad dream. Everybody gets 'em here and there."

Trent nodded to show he understood. Or maybe because he just liked nodding. Fanning another yawn with his hand he said, "Well, if talking about it'll make it seem less scary, I'm all ears."

"I wasn't scared," I snapped, tugging at the thin blanket. "It was just stupid, is all."

He held out one hand, palm forward. "Okay, okay. Just trying to help."

"I don't need your help," I muttered as I turned back to the window. "I don't need _anyone_ 's help."

My MP3 ran out of juice somewhere over France, and I dozed on and off through the rest of the flight. I think Trent and I spent an entire half hour engaged in rock-paper-scissors. I started off the first game with scissors out of habit, half-confused when Trent didn't choose paper. Noah _always_ chooses to be paper first.

Once, the people across the aisle from us asked Trent if he was from Total Drama Action. He responded enthusiastically and gave them his autograph when they asked for it. The girl then looked past him at me. She didn't say anything out loud, but she didn't need to; her eyes said it for her. _Who is_ she?

As the plane began coming in for a landing I said, "So, who are we looking for again?"

Trent searched in his left pocket, then his right. He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and smoothed it on one knee. "Says we're looking for a… Hamish McTavish. Well, with a name like that he shouldn't be too hard to find."

"In all of Scotland."

"Just the Loch Ness area," he corrected me gently. "He's been told to meet us."

"Whatever. So, how are we going to get there?"

"We'll catch a taxi."

I peered out the window at the black, moonless night. Trent must've guessed what I was thinking, because he said, "We can camp out in the airport and wait until it lightens up."

"You can do that?"

He scratched his head again. "I think so."

So that's what we did. The plane pulled in, I took my duffel, and Trent pulled his heavy backpack down from the overhead bin. We filed into the airport after the rest of the passengers.

"Are you sure they let you sleep in here?" I asked, eyeing several sleepy teenagers who were slogging down the hallway.

"Pretty sure." Trent pointed at a man in the next waiting area over. "See?"

"He's boarding. We're leaving. They might say there's a difference. Maybe haul us out while were unconscious."

"Do you have a better idea?"

Personally I thought a hotel bed sounded pretty welcoming, but we needed what little money we had for taxi rides, and sharing a room with Trent would just be awkward, to say the least.

"Fine then. Let's camp."

We found a carpeted spot against some floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out at the airplanes. Trent fluffed up his backpack and instantly fell asleep against it. Who could've predicted that there was actually a benefit to lugging around something that big? I tried propping my head against my duffel, but dumbbells don't make the most comfortable pillow. So after several long minutes of tossing and turning, I joined Trent at his backpack, burrowing my head into my arms. I can't say how long I slept, but it was much better than any catnap I'd taken on the plane. I felt refreshed when I stirred awake the next morning, sunlight slanting into my eyes.

I yawned and stretched my arms above my head, then reached out to slap Trent in the shoulder. "Get up, lazylegs- We're burning daylight."

Trent groaned, lifted his head, blinked at me, then buried his face back into his backpack. "Dude, no."

"Come on." I shook him by the shoulder. "Let's go."

"Don't want to."

"Yeesh. Is this why Gwen dumped you? 'Cuz you're a big baby?"

"You're certainly eager to get a move on," he mumbled without looking up.

"Yeah. We've got round-trip tickets for a flight that leaves tonight at eleven, and I don't wanna miss it. The sooner we find Hamtam-Whosit, the sooner we can leave."

"Hamish McTavish."

I rolled my eyes. "That's what I said."

We changed our clothes into something less sweaty. I splashed some water on my face and tied up my ponytail, and we were off. It wasn't hard to flag down a taxi after we left the airport. Trent slept most of the drive to Loch Ness, so he obviously wasn't much for conversation. I tried watching the scenery out my window, but I had difficulty focusing. My stomach growled maybe eight times during the two-hour trip, and I was starving by the time our driver allowed us out.

I let Trent settle our tab as I surveyed our surroundings from the top of a small rise. A short stone tower, crumbling its way towards ruin, stood not too far off. The water rippled pale blue, the grass a yellow-green. Your typical lake. Having grown up near many lakes, including the five Great ones, I can't say I was all that impressed.

"Oh my gosh," I groaned, rubbing one palm into an eye socket. "I can't believe she made us come all the way out here on a freakin' _goose chase_."

"You don't know that," Trent chided, coming up behind me.

"Yes I do. Let's just hurry and get this over with."

Trent pulled the note from his pocket again and briefly checked it over. "Well, it says here that Blaineley contacted Hamish and told him to be here today to meet with us, so-"

"She told him to meet with us, but she couldn't get him to tell her about Duncan?"

"Dude, I dunno." Trent shrugged and replaced the note, then knelt beside his backpack. "Should I get out the camera?"

"Yeah." I rummaged in my duffel bag. "And here's the mic."

I started to feel uncomfortable as I watched Trent pull a camcorder and other equipment from his pack. The camcorder was handheld and small, at least, but the box that was supposed to record sound from the cordless microphone must've weighed at least ten pounds.

"You were carrying all that?" I asked in disbelief. "On your scrawny little shoulders?"

"I didn't mind," he said, playing with some dials and knobs.

"Yeesh, your neck must be aching. I could've done it for you."

"It's cool."

I shook my head and sat on a rock to watch him. Thankfully he didn't ask me to help him set everything up, because I would've felt pretty guilty. Trust me, me helping would've resulted in me snapping those wires as easily as I could blink an eye.

My stomach growled again, a little louder this time, and Trent shot me a sympathetic look. "Hungry?"

"Starved. Where's the food?"

"It's almost nine, so Hamish should show up soon. All you have to do is ask him what he saw, where he was when he took Duncan's picture, and his own theory about how Duncan made his way to Loch Ness. It'll be a snap, and then we'll get a real Scottish meal and have the rest of the day to ourselves."

"Why am I the one doing it?"

Trent winced and looked up at me again. "Oh, right. My bad, Eva- I didn't mean to assume." He gestured towards the wires he was playing with. "Be my guest, and I can do the interview. I don't think Blaineley will really mind, as long as you're, um… here."

I scowled doubtfully at the equipment with all its bells and whistles and shook my head. "Nah, I'll talk to him. I mean, how hard can it be, right?"

Hamish showed up late. We saw plenty of other cars come by, but they all seemed to be local families or gaggles of tourists. I longed to take a taxi and grab something to eat, but Trent insisted that I stay lest Hamish arrive while I was gone.

"He's making _us_ wait for _him_ ," I pointed out, crushing a pebble between my palms. "He prob'ly forgot we were coming. He prob'ly doesn't even exist! I mean, Drama-ley Queen already confirmed that she was sending me out here on a dumb wild goose chase just so they could all get away from me."

"I'm sure that wasn't the reason."

"It was too! She and Pigtails said so!" I ripped up a sprig of grass, briefly entwining long blades between my fingers, then snapped them in half and let their remains flutter to the ground. I stood. "That's it- I'm out. I'm cold and tired and hungry, and I've _really_ gotta use the bathroom."

Trent stood too, trying to reason with me, and my plans of leaving were squashed by a dusty, shuddering old cruiser that pulled up a few dozen meters farther down the lake.

"Think that's him?" Trent asked me.

The door opened and a man stepped out. A short man with a huge, fluffy ginger beard and squinty eyes, pressed into a plaid kilt and beret. He looked around, then began waddling over in our general direction.

"It's him," I grumbled, snatching up my microphone. "Let's get this over with."

Hamish introduced himself in a thick, apparently Scottish accent while Trent perched himself cross-legged on a boulder, the microphone equipment in his lap and the camcorder in his hand. He gave me a thumbs up, signaling that we were rolling, and I held the microphone up to my face.

"So, you've gotta tell me what you saw."

I tilted the microphone towards Hamish, and he responded to my demand with enthusiasm.

"Arch, de records lome, an eisers glum-"

I'm not kidding- that's exactly how he was talking. I couldn't make something like that up.

Hamish went on like this for another moment more in his heavy accent, acting out his story with great arm motions, but when it became clear that he couldn't - or wouldn't - speak proper English like any normal person, I snapped.

"-an eiser parvichai-"

"What are you _saying_? Aw, _forget this_!" I drew the microphone back behind my head and then hurled it at the square little man as hard as I could. Before he even had the chance to grunt in pain I had whipped around and marched off.

Even from the corner of my eye I could see Trent stare at me for maybe two seconds, slack-jawed, before he dropped his forehead into his hand.

Suddenly Hamish found he didn't want to talk to us anymore after that. He yelled at me as he revved up his dying car. Maybe it was good that I didn't understand exactly what he was saying, because I'm pretty sure some of those things he shouted were swears. If he didn't look so old and small, I might've punched him. Instead I punched a rock enough times to put a crack in it, hard enough to scrape my knuckles. I hoped Trent wouldn't notice they were bleeding.

He packed away the cameras and microphone equipment as he waited for me to calm down. I pitched stones into the loch, trying to make them bounce, and I got up to three skips before Trent cautiously came up behind me.

"Eva?"

"What?" I snarled, not looking at him. I threw another stone, which hit the water with a _plunk!_

Trent was furious with me for the way I'd acted- That much was certain, though he didn't say so. He stood in silence, watching as I launched rocks into the water.

"Well… You realize you really can't _do_ things like that, just lose your temper so quickly… But thanks for trying."

I turned towards him, glowering. "Don't you _dare_ start with me, Saxophone." I put my hands on Trent's chest and shoved him backwards so that he stumbled and nearly fell. "You, with your dumb… compliments and your… positivity and…" I shook my head. "Just stop pretending that you want to be my friend, all right? Stop pretending to be so nice to me. I know that you hate me just as much as everyone else at that freakin' studio."

Trent leaned away as I stepped towards him. "You don't know me!" I continued, shouting now. "You don't know me like Noah and Iz do! Stop acting like you can replace them! Just because you act all nice to me doesn't mean I have to make you my friend, got it?"

He opened his mouth, but I surged onwards before he could speak.

"You don't know who I am and you don't know all the things I've been through, so _don't you dare_ come over here and criticize me! I'm not _perfect_ , okay? No one is! There are only two people I've ever met who even come _close_ to perfect, and they're somewhere out there in a freakin' _death-trap_!"

Trent looked confused. He said, "Dude, Eva- Izzy and Noah are going to be okay. Not even Chris would make them do anything that would actually kill them."

"You can't promise they'll be _okay_!" I grabbed at my hair, tugging handfuls of it free from my ponytail. "You don't know that! You don't know they're gonna come back! You don't know them like I do! And you don't know _me_ like _they_ do, either. I'm not perfect, and I never claimed to be perfect, so you can't just come and list all these things that are wrong with me, acting like you're so much better than me-"

Trent had finally had enough. As I lifted my fist he reached out and took my hand with both of his, locking eyes with me. "Eva," he said. "Listen to me."

I bit my lip, stunned into silence by the fact that he was touching me. Not because I had some dumb crush on him or any of that girly stuff, but because it meant that he wasn't afraid of me… and because the only other person who ever caught my fist mid-punch that way, ever pushed it down like that, was Noah.

… I missed Noah. If Noah had been here, he would've made sure I didn't lose my temper. Heck, I wouldn't even _be_ here if he were here, because when he was around I could talk with him and laugh with him, and I never would've spazzed out back at Playa Des Losers, and Blaineley and the others never would've sent me on this dumb wild goose chase in the first place.

"Maybe I'm not Noah," Trent was saying, "and maybe I'm not Izzy. But they're not here right now. I am. Me, Geoff, Katie, Sadie, Beth, and Justin. That's who you've got right now."

"Tch. They're not my friends. They wanted to send me away."

"Maybe they did, but that doesn't make them bad people. If you gave them another chance…" Trent briefly shut his eyes. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that maybe I _don't_ know you. But you don't know _me_ either. Maybe I'm not _pretending_ to be nice. Maybe I'm just a nice guy. And maybe sometimes being nice isn't enough. Maybe sometimes nice guys finish last. But at least… I'm trying." Trent looked at me again, then quickly looked away. He let go of my hand. "And. . .you tried too, Eva. Even if you lost your temper, at least you tried. That's worth something."

I studied his face, appalled. "You sound just like Izzy."

"Izzy? No way."

"Way," I said, and gave him a light punch in the shoulder. "Trust me: You don't know her like I do."

"Guess not." Trent scratched the back of his neck and stared out over the lake. I waited for him to continue, but he didn't. He just kept staring at the water, and I stared too, both of us softly breathing in the silence. A cool breeze picked up, ruffling his hair and whipping my ponytail back and forth against my shoulders. A bird called and took flight. _Fwap, fwap, fwap._

I lowered my gaze just a little. "I'm trying so hard," I murmured. "But when I'm not around Noah or Izzy or my dad, I tend to do dumb things." I rubbed a dot of dried blood from one knuckle with the thumb of my other hand. "And people get hurt."

Again he said, "Thanks for trying, Eva." He lifted his backpack. "And at least we have _something_ to bring back to Blaineley, so hopefully she won't be too mad at you."

I thought about the curtains and furniture that I had shredded back at Casa Dos Losers, and winced.

"Hopefully," I said. With a sigh through my teeth, I pushed back loose strands of my hair. "What was it we were fighting about again?"

Trent shrugged. "Nothing. We were just angry." He held out one hand towards me. "I'm sorry that I snapped at you."

 _Just like that?_

Slowly, I took his hand and gave it a brief shake. "Yeah," I said, hesitated, and then added, "I'm sorry too, Saxophone. I was just… so _angry_. At myself, at Chris, at Blaineley. So I took my anger out on you, and you didn't deserve that. It won't happen again. At least… I'll try to make sure it won't happen again."

Trent cracked a slight smile. "That'd be nice." Shouldering his backpack he said, "So, I happened to see this great-looking restaurant on the drive over, and the more money we spend out here means the less money we have to give back to Blaineley. I've heard salmon and lamb are popular foods in Scotland. Should we check it out?"

"Should we? Yeesh, I'm starving!"

We set off along the road, talking and even laughing as we went. Eventually we were able to flag down a taxi, sit back, and just enjoy the scenery as it _whooshed_ past our windows.

"And hey." Trent lay one hand on my elbow. "That picture Hamish sent Blaineley was probably just a fake anyway, made with plastic and a toy boat or something. Like you said, this was all just a wild goose chase to begin with. It's not like Hamish even saw the real Duncan, so even if you did manage to get a full interview, it wouldn't have really mattered in the end."

That made me feel a little bit better. "Yeah, that's prob'ly true."

Snorting with laughter, Trent slid a hand down his forehead. "But dude, did you get a load of his accent? I was like 'I can't understand you, man! Could you just speak proper English like any normal person?'"

I laughed too. "My thoughts exactly. 'If you don't have anything intelligent to say, don't say anything at all'."

It was hardly even noon by the time we reached the nearest city, but I gorged myself on several different kinds of fish, a stew known as cawl, and what I think was quail. Trent, being at least as much of a picky eater as Noah, refused to try the haggis even before he found it was made from sheep organs. He also turned down seafood, but I thought the laverbread they served there was incredible.

Our plane didn't leave until eleven at night, presumably so that Blaineley and the others could keep me away for as long as possible, so Trent and I spent the rest of the day touring the nearby cities and spending Blaineley's money on random trinkets and souvenirs. She wouldn't be very happy about that, but did I care? Not likely.

Of course, if I'd had my choice I would have preferred to have Noah and Izzy along with me in place of Trent. But you can't have everything, and as far as people from Playa Des Losers that I could've gotten stuck with, Trent was probably the best I could've asked for. He didn't make sarcastic comments like Noah would've done, nor did he try to go canal-diving like Izzy would have wanted to, but hey- Nobody's perfect.

We enjoyed a dinner that tasted just as amazing as our lunch and then headed to the airport as it began to grow dark. This time Trent remembered to remove his necklace before going through the metal detector. The last of our money was spent on ice cream cones, which I thought made a fitting end to our day.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Trent asked as we sat by the great windows, watching the planes take off and land on the darkened runways outside.

"I got to go on an all-expenses-paid vacation to Scotland." I grinned at him over my ice cream. "Who's the sucker now?"

Noah would've wanted to rock-paper-scissors me for the window seat, but Trent offered it up without being asked. I almost took it, but at the last moment I decided to give it to him instead. I think that made him happy, though I know he wouldn't have complained if I'd left him with the spot by the aisle. He was just that decent of a guy.

"If you're still awake when they come by with the snack cart, can you ask them for a muffin and a Sprite for me?"

He gave me a thumbs up. "Sure thing."

"Thanks… Trent." I burrowed into the thin red blanket as the plane lifted off the runway, heading for Muskoka.

I don't remember if I dreamed about Noah and Izzy again. I probably didn't. But I do remember that in my dreams that night nobody froze, and nobody died.


End file.
